Four And Twenty Mary Sues Baked in a Pie
by tweak1
Summary: If the mention of Legolas leaves you weak at the knees (or if you have a not-so-secret wish to get into his pants), this is NOT the set of poetry for you.
1. Chapter 1 Out Come The Guns

Rabid Legolas Fan Bashing Poem  
  
Today's story, my chickadees, revolves around an Elf  
  
Of Mirkwood down in Middle-Earth- yep, Legolas himself.  
  
Now he's all right as immortals go, you know, white skin, fair hair-  
  
The only trouble is he's got a fanclub everywhere!  
  
I swear, if Earth was doomed today and we had to live on Mars  
  
We'd find some Legolas-lovers hanging round in Martian bars-  
  
Or worse, as far as I'm concerned, creating Mary-Sues  
  
And posting them on fanfic sites which stalker-types abuse.  
  
If we could have our way, they write, our ultimate fantasy,  
  
It'd be to get him bedded down with us- and then they'd see,  
  
Those teachers who accused us of drawing rude stuff on our books  
  
When we were only seeing how Legolas naked would look,  
  
The kids in all the schools who called us weird, perverted freaks,  
  
So what if we wear capes to school or try and learn Elf-Speak? -  
  
They'd pay if we had Legolas as ours and in our thrall,  
  
And he'd kill them and then they'd see we're not weird after all!'  
  
So Legolas is quite good-looking; but does he deserve the trauma  
  
  
  
Of thousands of teenage girls wanting him to be their baby's father?  
  
I personally don't think it's fair to put him under the strain  
  
Of being the Next New Sex Symbol, which will only earn him the bane  
  
Of Hartnett, Marco, Pitt and Cruise- and stealing their spots  
  
On late-night chat shows (Jaw Leno for one) in prime time TV slots,  
  
Will earn him at least five stalkers and a million teenage girls  
  
Who shower him with undies and send letters from round the world  
  
Demanding that he marry them or at least send a reply,  
  
And when they just don't get one they either kill themselves or cry-  
  
I dare say these poor females exist everywhere on Earth  
  
And probably, if there's life out there, all over the Universe.  
  
You can recognise them on the street, the obsessive ones that is-  
  
They're wearing capes and have signs saying, 'Middle-Earth Exists!'  
  
Now you think to yourself, What crap! That's definitely not me!  
  
How many times have you read Lord of the Rings now? 43?  
  
And do you wake up from dreams involving Legolas and you  
  
Breathing so hard you hyperventilate and vomit on your shoes?  
  
Do you, perhaps, doodle his name or have a poster in your locker  
  
Decorated with little hearts and post its saying-' 'Meant For Each Other!'  
  
Do you rate guys' cuteness factor by the length of their blonde hair  
  
Or perhaps by how much time they spend in their arrows' tender care?  
  
If any of the above is positive, you're longing for an Elvin kiss-  
  
And all I can say is thank the Lord that Legolas doesn't exist. 


	2. Chapter 2 Attack On Mary Sues

I'm back again, my friends, to talk about a vast disease  
  
That's spread from fanfic site to site with quite alarming ease.  
  
Thanks to the good response I've had for 'Legolas', thus ensues  
  
The explanation and shooting down of the accursed Mary-Sues.  
  
Now perhaps I go quite overboard when I say with conviction  
  
That from the human race a Mary-Suer deserves eviction-  
  
But that is just a product of a frustration leading from  
  
Hours of downloading Mary Sues to CD-ROM  
  
And scouring them obsessively hoping just once to see  
  
A trace- a sentence- just a word of pure originality!  
  
The plot of Mary-Sues is this- and try to keep this in mind,  
  
I have never in all my life been able once to find  
  
A Mary Sue that differs in one teeny tiny way  
  
From any of the guidelines that I am about to say-  
  
A girl whose beauty rivals that of the Elvin race itself  
  
Finds herself via a magic path in the midst of Middle-Earth.  
  
The way she gets herself there is quite often not explained  
  
And sometimes she's an elf herself- but never has any brains.  
  
The beautiful girl (designed to make the writer's looks seem better)  
  
Proceeds to be courageous and brave dangers of all weathers-  
  
Wars, perhaps, or maybe forests in the dark of night-  
  
In any case, she's soon in trouble and needs help in her plight.  
  
And here comes Legolas- goodness me! He must have psychic powers  
  
Or good eyes to see three thousand girls in trouble from his towers.  
  
So he rescues her, being the knight with a damsel in distress  
  
And brings her back to his home place and proceeds to remove her dress  
  
To heal her wounds with Elvin cures. Now this part gets my goat-  
  
If Legolas is so wonderful then how come he's such a stoat  
  
That he actually removes the clothing of an injured girl?  
  
And yet the Mary Sues (wouldn't you know it) savour every word.  
  
(In one story which strained to be original- quite a feat-  
  
It was Leggy who was in trouble and Mary Sue who did the deed  
  
Of rescuing him- but the same result always ensues, I fear,  
  
So if it's all the same to you I'll leave that story there.)  
  
There are variations, of course- perhaps they are betrothed  
  
Or maybe he meets her while she's singing poetry and odes-  
  
Whatever the case, the same result can always be counted on-  
  
The Mary Sue makes Legolas fall in love with her, that's certain.  
  
Now if I lived in Middle Earth I'd still have a snub nose and pimples,  
  
I'd make everyone annoyed with me and I would NOT have dimples-  
  
But the one deed I have sworn to do is take a Murder Spell  
  
And send every single Mary Sue to fiery Fanfic Hell. 


	3. Chapter 3 Ah, Woe Is Me!

I have been pelted endlessly with mail rude and obscene  
  
From people with titles like 'The Brooklyn Mary Sue Queen'  
  
Who accuse me, in the least appealing language of this species,  
  
Of having the IQ and sensitivity of faeces.  
  
They all proclaim that Legolas adoration is an ART  
  
Which takes a great deal of patience and a big amount of heart-  
  
They seek, as one girl put it, 'to bring joy to peoples' lives'  
  
While conveniently picturing themselves as Leggy's wives.  
  
Now I am not a connoisseur, no critic of high esteem-  
  
I'm just protesting eagerly against those hideous fiends  
  
Who seem to think that broadcasting sexual fantasies on the Net  
  
Is beneficial, educational and very good etiquette.  
  
This is the same attitude no doubt encountered when  
  
The South American drug lords were thrown into the Pen.  
  
Their defence, I'm sure, had exactly the same beat  
  
As the Mary Sue Avengers, who proceed to whine and bleat:  
  
'We thought it was creative to brainwash countless teens,  
  
Haunt them with endless longings and unsated craving dreams!  
  
Their longings are our life-blood, their pain our plate of cream,  
  
And we'll go and throw tantrums if you're going to be mean!'  
  
This ignorant and childish view was in every email sent  
  
All of which told me in no uncertain terms to say: 'I repent!  
  
Mary Sues are cool! They're wonderful! Case closed!  
  
(Now could you keep the knife at a safe distance from my nose?)'  
  
However, is this not the world which lauds Freedom Of Speech?  
  
Am I not allowed to rant and rave and scream and bitch and preach?  
  
It is my constitutional right to say whatever strikes me,  
  
And if you have a problem with that, Mary Suers- bite me. 


	4. Chapter 4 Prepare for More

I tire now, my loyal fans, of making asinine fools  
  
Of the accursed, brain dead and idiotic Mary-Sues.  
  
What am I saying? Do they not need every chance they get  
  
To realise that to place themselves in stories on the Net  
  
With somebody with whom their vast obsession is obscene  
  
Makes readers recoil with vast disgust and go scrub themselves clean?  
  
I have, out of the kindness of my disgusted heart,  
  
Upon a huge campaign to stop these maniacs embarked.  
  
They are a looming danger to the sane, freaks and perverts alike  
  
And it would do them justice if their clothes were set alight  
  
(Ignore that)- but I, being the kind and gentle girl I am,  
  
Have devised a kindly method to create from brains of Spam  
  
Something which does not need dreams of Legolas to keep alive  
  
And which will, if accordingly 'placated', undoubtedly thrive.  
  
The process starts with offenders being hauled up before a Judge  
  
Who thinks, as judges do, of criminals as muddy sludge,  
  
And sentenced. Guilt is measured by frequency of crime  
  
And by the degree of soppiness in their Mary Suer grime.  
  
After they have been lectured and sentenced (without parole)  
  
Here is where I take on my therapeutic role.  
  
These poor young brainwashed creatures are taken to a small retreat  
  
Where LOTR is strictly banned (and so are hairy feet).  
  
And so they ride their way through years, perhaps, of therapy  
  
With Legolas being washed out of their veins. And so we see,  
  
Perhaps, in this vast dream of mine, one happy class discussing  
  
Why exactly rappers need to express their emotions by cussing,  
  
Why people bother learning languages that don't exist  
  
(All Latin scholars, listen up- you've all gone round the twist),  
  
And how exactly humans survived when their only thoughts at night  
  
Involve a certain Elf with long blonde hair and methril tights.  
  
Another class is painting, and anything resembling runes  
  
Is trashed by a troll-like bouncer standing right outside the room.  
  
Clothing is short and purple, most un-Elf or Hobbit-like,  
  
And everyone must wear shoes- albeit, none can wear Nike.*  
  
If there's suspected contraband of LOTR DVDs  
  
Or that confounded 'Mary Suers Melodies' CD,  
  
The Mary-Suers are locked in a room and subjected to Dolly Parton  
  
For hours on end until they beg and grovel for their pardon.  
  
All in all, this therapy could make the sinners rethink  
  
The words as germ-infested as public toilet sinks,  
  
And perhaps they would depart one day, cleansed from head to toe  
  
And ready to give writing REAL LITERATURE a go.  
  
I believe that this idea has merit- save that it does not include  
  
Any mention of the boiling oil, as that would just be rude-  
  
The punishment of uttering Legolas's name is forgone,  
  
Save that it involves having one's long blond wig-head shorn,  
  
And as for the archery classes, the imagination can stretch  
  
To where this poet will not, for good taste's sake, even touch.  
  
Mary Suers, in case you haven't quite got the message yet,  
  
Stop before it's far too late, and then we'll forgive and forget. * Those slave workers in the Nike factories look strangely like Hobbits...... 


	5. Chapter 5 Big Brother Live

Welcome, friends and viewers, to that awful breeding-ground  
  
Where the cries of Leggy-lovers in the deepest depths resound-  
  
The horror of the earth where not one sane mind survives  
  
And where Mary Sues can congregate and even *shudder* thrive-  
  
Yes, welcome to Big Brother Mary-Sue Style (copyright)!  
  
We've sure got loads of funky Middle-Earth madness here tonight.  
  
Will Mary finally make her perfect mirthril underwear?  
  
Will Sue create a cloak that withstands every wear and tear?  
  
Will the cooking book be legible under all the blood-red doodles  
  
Of 'I Love Legolas' scrawled across the recipe for noodles?  
  
There's loads of fun for all, if this show doesn't make you hurl  
  
(Or if you feel slightly sorry for these maniacs of girls).  
  
We bring you an exclusive: Sue has called Mary something strange;  
  
She's speaking in fast Elvish and we think she's gone deranged.  
  
Mary appears to have understood, she's yelling something back-  
  
Oh, cover your ears children! She yelled 'Hobbit-toes!' Stand back!  
  
The straitjackets are coming, but the fight is tooth and nail-  
  
They're throwing wigs, and now it's like an ash-blonde screaming hail!  
  
Sue-Mary appears to be quietly busy at the shrine,  
  
Arranging the Legolas statue they made out of toilet rolls and twine.  
  
The sacred area was built last week and the daily rites include  
  
'Feeding' the little statue little scraps of 'Elven' food,  
  
Then stripping down to underwear and doing a minuet  
  
(While fighting over who gets the statue as partner.) I'll bet  
  
That Sue-Mary's trying to get some worshipping in on the side  
  
While the others fight like cat and dog- now they're using knives!  
  
Sue-Mary bends low, her blonde locks inches from the flames-  
  
And yes! My saints in heaven! This will bring her instant fame!  
  
Here in all its splendour is a minus-IQ at work;  
  
She's dancing round the room now with tremendous screams and jerks-  
  
Viewers, you are seeing right- do not adjust your set-  
  
In her intense devotion Sue-Mary set fire to her head!  
  
Sue's got Mary in a headlock and they're rolling on the floor-  
  
Come on folks- for those idiots, a great round of applause!  
  
We're afraid that's all we've got tonight, because insurance forbids  
  
Us from showing paramedics and asylum staff plunge into the thick of this;  
  
But we can assure you Mary and Sue are in quiet places with padded walls  
  
And lovely white straitjackets with a cloak on the back, with no Elvish at all.  
  
Sue-Mary will recover, though she'll be a trifle bald.  
  
Now before we field the complaints of every viewer that was appalled  
  
We must remind you all not to be to hard on these poor souls.  
  
God knows they need their kicks, because insanity can be so cold  
  
And lonely. You may think that their upstairs light is off  
  
Because they worship some blonde bimbo- that their brains are full of fluff  
  
For the reason that they live in their own sick perverted worlds  
  
Peacefully oblivious to the fact they make us hurl.  
  
Middle-Earth, you say, would be better off if every Mary-Sue was spiked  
  
With two thousand sharp spear-ends. And guess what, my friend? You're right! 


	6. Chapter Six Prepare For Kicks

I have alarming news, my friends, concerned with my crusade  
  
To rid the world of Mary-Sues (or just to get them laid.)  
  
Their unique brand of stupidity, in desperation founded,  
  
Now seems to be no longer on the Net so solely grounded.  
  
A case in point: yesterday as I was sitting with a friend  
  
Watching The Two Towers solemnly (and cheering at the end)  
  
Two teenage girls sat down beside us nearly halfway through.  
  
I hate it when people do that; they always obstruct the view.  
  
Of course, they giggled every time Orlando came on screen,  
  
But (less unusually) almost every whisper was obscene!  
  
They talked about the kind of stuff I wouldn't say to my shrink  
  
And most of it concerned Legolas (not to mention the kitchen sink).  
  
While I was quite disturbed, I thought- I shouldn't be a prude,  
  
These girls are old enough to realise what they're saying's rude,  
  
And if they wish to reveal their dreams and sexual fantasies  
  
In a movie theatre TO ANOTHER GIRL, it's nothing to do with me.  
  
Then came the most upsetting bit of the tale I have to tell.  
  
One girl said, as the movie climaxed and the music swelled,  
  
"Imagine if I was a princess and Legolas rescued me!"  
  
The other replied, "Ooh, how romantic!" with every trace of glee.  
  
They then spent twenty minutes ignoring the face of Monsieur Bloom  
  
And refining, in GRAPHIC detail, the plot of their Mary-Suer tune.  
  
Save me! I was screaming by the end, as every cliché-  
  
The rescue, the forbidden-love, keeping Loverboy at bay  
  
With fierce tomboy spirits which eventually give in  
  
"To their twin beating hearts"- was rolled out. Every sin  
  
That Mary-Suers ever found their joy in lay quite bare  
  
Before me in the theatre. I had to get out of there!  
  
(Of course, I didn't leave until the ending- those two nuts  
  
Weren't stopping me from seeing Frodo as the Black Gate shuts!)  
  
I stumbled out as Peter Jackson's name rose, gasping air  
  
And hoping murder was no longer a capital-punishment affair.  
  
The two girls trotted by me, their eyes glazing, chattering fast  
  
About their heroine- injured, of course, after a near-fatal blast  
  
Of lightning. Isn't everyone original these days?  
  
I'm so glad public minds and sanity have parted ways.  
  
Mary-Sues now invade the street, the shops, the shopping mall,  
  
And (most dangerous to all people) the public movie hall.  
  
Be on your guard at every time, and if one comes your way,  
  
Pretend you cannot hear it and perhaps it will go away.  
  
The plague is spreading now to the weak minds of the populace,  
  
All twittering about Orlando's charismatic face.  
  
Together we can stop this dreaded sickness in its tracks.  
  
If you sight a depraved individual, inform them of the fact  
  
That O. Bloom is NOT L. Of Mirkwood, no matter what they believe,  
  
And that minds which think up all this trash can only grossly peeve.  
  
(I do this nice persuasion with a rather biggish stick,  
  
But words can work occasionally. So can a fierce kick.) 


	7. Chapter 7 Send Them To Heaven

I have, my loyal readers, been away- but now am back  
  
For a merciless and (hopefully) successful new attack  
  
On the plagues of fanfic sites and general blights upon the earth,  
  
The Mary-Sues- those tramplers of the literary turf  
  
And spoilers of the soil! I will not bother to repeat  
  
The wish I have to stamp upon their little hairy feet,  
  
The venom I have stored in fading hope under my bed  
  
In case I have the chance to pour it in their empty heads.  
  
You should, if you have read the past few chapters (is it six?)  
  
Know that I wish to quell this problem, nip it in the quick.  
  
Perhaps, I thought, during my solstice in lands overseas,  
  
It isn't going to work, this 'bring the Mary-Sues to their knees!'  
  
Approach. You can't use violence on the criminally insane.  
  
It's stupid, asinine- why, to be frank, it's quite inane.  
  
They're driven by a bloodlust, a deep-rooted mad conviction  
  
That the Prince of Mirkwood one day will arise from within fiction  
  
And approach them, down on bended knee, proposing God knows what.  
  
Therefore it's really useless to strike while the iron is hot  
  
And try and beat them to a pulp. While satisfying, it  
  
Is hardly therapeutic, and can lead to getting nits.  
  
(Those long blonde wigs that Mary-Sues seem to continually wear  
  
Are often ripped, diseased and never seem to be repaired.)  
  
I've come up, finally, with a new way to clear the land  
  
Of those awful, obscene, traitorous and underhand-  
  
(All right, you get the point). In any case, my plan involves a new  
  
Approach to trying to stop these things from bothering me and you.  
  
The key (as Freud would say) to their psychological corruption  
  
Is that they must be lonely, or else starved for interruption  
  
In their love lives. Having never had an in-depth conversation  
  
With Mary-Sues that lasts beyond the third city train station,  
  
Where I get off, disgusted, all I have to prove this theory  
  
Is a myriad of Leggy-stories full of romance bright and cheery.  
  
If this is proof of madness, which I'm certain that it is,  
  
Then perhaps we can ignore the lack of evidential fizz  
  
And move on to my idea. It is simple, it is clean,  
  
It restrains itself from acting in a manner rude and mean  
  
(Though we all know they deserve it)- May I have a drum roll please!  
  
It's the Mary Suer Love Connection, with moderate fees!  
  
A dating service, whereupon the lonely Mary Sue  
  
Can meet the Legolas of her dreams- or his (I'm not a prude).  
  
We link them up on cyberspace, where they teem anyway,  
  
And send them out on dates when comes a nice and sunny day.  
  
To Tolkein fan clubs, archery, to cliffs, cloak stores and fields,  
  
If we could pair them up perhaps their souls would be revealed  
  
From under that foul coat of bile in which they now reside.  
  
It probably, however, would be quite a rocky ride.  
  
We might be inundated with requests for lanky lads  
  
With long hair (BROWN!), a longbow and a King for dear old dad.  
  
Eventually, however, we might make them all see sense-  
  
Even if that process does involve nailing them to a fence.  
  
Look here, you Mary Sues- I know that underneath that crust  
  
Of dumb perverted fantasies and adolescent lust  
  
There's something yearning, lonely and just wanting to be held.  
  
(They say that that's what Adolf Hitler felt at times as well.)  
  
Now ask yourself one question: If Dear Legolas the Great  
  
Appeared, all hair and arrows, at your picket fence front gate,  
  
Would he beg and plead on bended knee for you to be his wife?  
  
The answer, Mary Sues, is no. Go out and get a life. 


	8. Chapter 8 The Campaign of Hate

When looking at my new reviews (they keep me warm at night),  
  
A strange, distressing viewpoint became seared upon my sight.  
  
While only cited once amongst the sixty-odd reviews,  
  
It still reduced my stomach to a primordial ooze.  
  
To put it in the nicest terms- a necessary act,  
  
For quoting it would ruin any small semblance of tact-  
  
I was accused of being clichéd, banal, hackneyed, trite.  
  
(It is within Thesauruses that poets find delight)  
  
For putting in my say about a-bashin' Mary Sues.  
  
According to this 'person', this pursuit is REAL OLD NEWS.  
  
Been there, done that, a million times, and then a couple more.  
  
I felt as though Fanfic Police would soon knock on my door:  
  
"Excuse me, Miss, just come with us." I'd scream and kick and fight,  
  
But it would be no use- not even if I tried to bite.  
  
I would have a Not Original branded on all my verse  
  
And probably on my forehead too, accompanied by a curse  
  
Sentencing me to haunt the windswept plains of Fanfic Land  
  
Howling for new ideas, luring them in, ink pen in hand..  
  
Well, hi-ho Silver, hold on there. Before I'm dragged away  
  
I have a couple of issues, just some stuff I need to say.  
  
Firstly, if you have got this far you should know my attitude  
  
Regarding those blasphemous scum-of-the-earth Mary-Sues.  
  
I won't reiterate it now. There would really be no point,  
  
And I've only got one phone call before I'm hauled off to the joint.  
  
Mary-Sue hating is rife. It's like a spreading plague of health.  
  
Now, readers, do you think that just because there is a wealth  
  
Of one particular idea out in the world today  
  
That every convert should be tattooed with the word 'passé'?  
  
That's like outlawing Islam because too many people believe.  
  
If that is what the world is like then I'm applying to leave.  
  
So there, my dear darling anonymous reviewer friend,  
  
Is the first flaw in your campaign against our growing trend.  
  
The second, and the biggest, is that if you'd care to think  
  
About the stuff you're spouting like a broken kitchen sink  
  
(I'm sorry, as a poet, for those awful last two lines,  
  
But in the context, 'think' was a bad word to try and rhyme)  
  
You would realise something. Listen. If what I say is widespread,  
  
Then a lot of people want to bash Mary-Sues on the head.  
  
And why do you suppose that that might be, you little genius you?  
  
Because they keep on multiplying, as all mindless rabbits do!  
  
(I meant no insult to rabbits, just got caught up in the heat-  
  
Oh, forget it.) Look, I'm not going to bother to repeat  
  
My stance on Mary-Sues again. Let me just make it clear  
  
That it makes me and several- many- others sick to hear  
  
Of such rampaging fruitfulness in the clans of Mary-Sues.  
  
We're just doing what Nature meant for all species to do.  
  
If YOU persist in spoiling one of literature's best,  
  
Then we will keep maintaining: We're just here to tame a pest. 


End file.
